Untitled
by AccioJosh
Summary: Ron comforts his best friend the only way he knows how. (not slash overtly, not really a Harry-Ron fic either)


_A/N: I don't know if this one will work. I'm not... well, just review and let me know._

He couldn't remember when it had started. Sometime in first year, when Harry had woken in the night crying and screaming out, and Dean and Neville had almost woken up. They weren't loud cries, but enough that, with Ron so close, he heard them. Harry was dreaming about things that Ron couldn't fathom, but he'd moved over and stroked Harry's dark hair until the boy calmed down and stopped making noises. It wasn't until he tried to leave that he realized Harry was gripping his leg, latched on like a baby to his mum. So he'd stayed that way for a while, just stroking Harry's hair and even once tracing the famous scar.

They hadn't spoken of it, not for months. Ron didn't even know if Harry knew that it was almost nightly that they ended up in bed together. Some mornings he would fall asleep there, the hangings the only reason no one else seemed to figure it out. Since Ron would always fall asleep in his own bed, it wasn't as if he had to try hard to muss it.

At first nothing sexual happened, just Ron keeping Harry company against the nightmares. Ron didn't even think of Harry like that, and he knew he probably didn't like boys in that way, but it was Harry, his best friend, and he needed Ron's gentle touch because he had no one else to give it to him.

It wasn't until the nightmares grew worse and Ron had to start sleeping with him from the start. The other boys knew now, how could they not, but they said nothing. Everyone had heard Harry crying in the night, screaming out Justin's name or Hermione's, fear rampant. And then after the chamber, the cries had gone to Ginny. Ron felt even closer to him after that; Harry had saved his sister's life. He felt a duty to give Harry a bit more love than he might to Dean or Seamus, and none of the boys thought it wrong.

It was still private, never spoken of. Harry would just undress and get into bed, sliding over just enough for Ron to climb in after him. Ron would turn towards Harry, who would turn towards the wall and move back against Ron's warmth while Ron embraced him.

Third year and the tournament. That had been harrowing and it hurt Ron to listen to Harry's cries, his lonely anguish every night. He knew even as he hated him that he loved him too much to let it go on. When they made up, finally, Ron was happy to slide back into that warmth and fall asleep with Harry's body wrapped tightly to him.

It wasn't gay, really. No, loving your best mate wasn't gay. Even though it eventually led to fumbling, childish kissing and playing, it wasn't gay. Not for Ron. He liked girls, and he knew that even though he let Harry touch him, and kiss him, and feel parts of him that no one else had, it was only because he loved Harry that it was okay. If anyone else had tried, he'd have probably punched them or just told them off, but this was Harry, and he needed his mate to be there like this.

After Cedric died, it grew worse. Even with Ron holding him, he could hear Harry crying into the night. Eventually he'd been given permission, silently of course, to move back to his own bed and let things be. He was quietly glad, feeling locked into something and worrying that Harry thought it more than it was.

Of course Harry was gay. Everyone could see it. Harry just didn't find girls interesting, and there wasn't anything wrong with that. So when he caught Harry out after hours snogging Colin in a deserted classroom, he just closed the door and moved on. He let Harry pretend it wasn't happening, and pretend that no one knew. Hermione would try and talk about it sometimes, but Ron knew there were things you didn't talk about with anyone, even your girlfriend.

Once, when Ron had hoped Harry might be with Ginny, he'd thought she would be hurt if she knew what Harry did with him while they slept. But even Ron wasn't so daft not to see that Ginny had figured it all out and moved on. It wasn't that his sister wasn't pretty, or was too young, or anything of the sort; Harry just didn't go that way. Ron was just glad that Ginny saw it too.

Ron was also glad when Colin disappeared from Harry's life. The kid was too interested in Harry's fame to see the real boy behind him. Colin wouldn't hold Harry at night, protecting him from the nightmares, he just wanted to be in Harry's bed so he could brag about it. It was Colin's fault that people found out, but Harry didn't care and so Ron let the boy live.

"It's alright, isn't it Ron? You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad? It's who you are. I love you, mate. Always have."

Harry had been so happy he'd cried, worried that Ron would reject him or push him away. How, after all that, could he have thought so little of Ron? It hurt a bit, but he knew Harry needed to feel that, to explain his nervous fears and his worries. Ron just held him and let him cry, stroking his back and shoulders until Harry finally moved to his bed and slept fitfully.

Harry's dreams were even worse now, with Sirius gone. And with no one to hold him, we'd all be woken in the night to listen as he cried and screamed and pleaded with the ghost of his godfather. Dean had given me a look, pointedly urging me to do what I'd done before. And so I found myself resuming my duty of best mate and holding Harry at night whilst being in love with Hermione by day. Luckily there was nothing to fear because Harry knew I belonged to her, so he kept his touches to what was required for us to be close, and I held him like a brother and kissed his neck when the whimpering got to be too much.

Love is difficult and blind, genderless and painful, but love allows us to go on.


End file.
